


Here Now

by TheWaitingFangirl



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Arthur just........ knows things, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Love Confession, Warming Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaitingFangirl/pseuds/TheWaitingFangirl
Summary: Caught in a terrible situation that culminates into a near death experience, Arthur saves your life; but that doesn't mean almost losing you didn't mess with him.





	Here Now

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: I love your writing SO MUCH AAAA ❤️ could I request (either headcanons or a fic, whatever you like!!) reader getting hurt on a mission and trying to hide it but Arthur just sees right through it when they try to shrug it off? I’m all about hurt/comfort, ESPECIALLY with this soft cowboy 👀 thank you!!
> 
> Anonymous asked: Can I request a fic with the “let’s get warmed up” trope? With Arthur, please?
> 
> Shout-out to @winters-uprise on tumblr for helping me handpick the ideas for this fic!!!! She's an amazing gf!!!

There was a moment where your adrenaline spiked, desperation-driven and determined, as you sunk further and further in the water. Your arms agitated feebly around you, trying to gain leverage on the water and pull you back up; but the water was too cold and your winter clothing too heavy now that it was soaked.

You jerked your body, feet kicking at anything you could reach by now — rocks, the riverbed — in a sad attempt not to drown. The river was dark and fast moving as it dragged you through stream with little to no effort; and when you managed to poke your head over the water to gasp for air, all you could hear was the raging of the water, your heartbeat drumming in your ears and Arthur’s desperate shout.

You had been out with the man in some sort of scout mission through Grizzlies West, looking for any signs of Colm O’Driscoll and his gang — Dutch had made a point of going after them, now with all of you comfortably stablished on Horseshoe Overlook, he had brought up the subject once more. Arthur seemed hesitant, like Hosea, but ultimately obliged to it. Agreeing to join him in the scout — at Hosea’s request —, you saddled up and left at first light. The trip had been uneventful, mostly filled with small talk and companionable silence.  Arthur was easy enough to be around, with his brooding personality and witty comments here and there.

Out by Beartooth Beck, a little over Cattail Pond, with the setting sun and temperatures dropping just as fast, you had both decided it was time to setup camp and keep tracking for another day or two before heading back to Horseshoe. There hadn’t been any conclusive evidence of the O’Driscolls so far and you were highly doubtful there was gonna be any; but kept your thoughts to yourself. Arthur suggested setting camp on a clearance he had spotted a couple miles back, and so you turned your horse and followed him.

Halfway across the path, though, just as you crossed the river, your horse got unsettled with the depth of it. The stream moved fast and for some reason, your mare had always taken it unkindly to water — especially chest-deep. It all happened at a moment’s notice, the hooves slipping on the loose river bed, your horse rearing and you losing your balance, Arthur’s yell and then freezing cold.

There was the steady thumping of horse hooves on your right and you saw Arthur kicking his steed faster as he tried to catch up with you. You tried waved your arms feebly at him, screaming for help.

“Try to hold onto somethin’!,” he called to you, voice ringing louder than the raging water, “c’mon, _c’mon!”_ The horse complained, but acquiesced to Arthur’s brutal pace as he urged it to go even faster.

Doing your best to stay afloat despite the weight of your soaked winter coat and boots, you tried to steer your way towards the round-looking boulders on the riverside. Hell-bent on surviving, you _really_ didn’t want a bloody fucking _river_ to kill you—

Your body slammed against the well-rounded rock violently, hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs, gloved hands feebly scratching at its smooth surface for a small indent, anything that could keep you from being dragged down the river—

Arthur took a hold of your forearm, gasping at the coolness of the icy water; snowflakes clinging to his face and clothes as he pulled you out of the water stream considerably easily.

“ _Shit_ ,” he gasped, cheeks bright red as he shrugged off the blue winter coat, “take it off, c’mon.”

With shivering hands, you tried to undo the fastenings of your jacket, breath coming out in shallow puffs from your trembling lips; the harsh wind only worsening your state as you constantly failed on getting rid of your soaked clothing.

“Here,” Arthur offered himself, already down to his shirt and waistcoat, “I’ll do it.” His hands worked fast, almost in a frenzy, as he peeled the fur coat from your arms, flinging it to the side and moving to your shirt without sparing a glance to your chest. A tremor passed your body and you closed your eyes, aching deep to the core of your bones at how cold you were. “No, no,” Arthur tapped at your face gently, getting you to look at him, “eyes open, c’mon.”

You nodded, feeling him drape the warm jacket over your shoulders and wrap it around your shivering body. “Gloves,” he demanded hastily, getting up to unbuckle the furry wolf chaps as you struggled to remove the wool mittens and Arthur came back, holding the canvas of his tent and the sleeping bag, making quick work of spreading it on the snow next to you and willing you to move onto it. “Let’s get you warmed up, nice n easy.”

Your teeth clattered incessantly, your body unable to stop its shivering; even as Arthur put the canvas around your body. “ _I’m_ _f-fu-fucking f-freezing_ …”

“I know, I know,” the man shushed you gently, taking off your moccasins and unbuttoning your pants. Part of you wanted to be embarrassed, ashamed of it, but Arthur displayed no interest besides getting you warmed up as fast as possible. He instructed you to lay down on the sleeping bag, helping you wiggle into the chaps fairly easily; hands calloused and warm. “Stay still, a’ight?”

You heard footsteps crunching the snow next to you, the huffing of a horse — you supposed Arthur’s — and he came back, looking apologetic, almost guilty. “Gotta move, sweetheart.” Before you could react the man scooped you up in his arms, holding you gently to his warm chest, the puffing of his breath creating little clouds of steam in the cold air. “Now, up ya go.”

He helped you up on the saddle, draping he woolen sleeping bag around your shoulders and you held back a pained whimper as the left side of your body burned with white hot pain before Arthur settled behind you, his arms securely wrapping around your waist. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lied through your teeth, sinking at the saddle as Arthur spurred his horse onwards, towards a small group of trees. “I’m fine.”

Arthur’s shoulders shook with a humorless laugh, but besides that, he didn’t say anything else. You still shivered, clutching at his winter jacket as the horse trudged through the snow. You didn’t really know what to say, nor what to think of the whole situation — it wasn’t like you weren’t grateful he had saved your life, but his desperation… there was something about it that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. You still felt on the edge, your ribs hurting terribly and teeth clattering as you did your best not to slip off of the saddle.

“We gotta get you warmed up,” Arthur rumbled behind you, breath coming warm against your cheek, “real quick, before it gets dark.” You looked up at the sky, the setting sun low on the horizon as if only realizing now. Arthur’s horse huffed, nodding its head in complaint to the cold.

“M-my horse,” you startled, “w-w-where—“

“She’s fine,” he calmed you down, voice gentle and low, “she’s right behind us. Calm down.”

With a shaky breath, you slouched back against him; trying to bask in his warmth. Your teeth still clattered, the sensitivity in your fingertips all but gone. Trying not look back at him, you focused on the path he seemed to be directing the both of you — a small group of trees over on a hill, enough to both keep you sheltered from the cold and to allow a campsite.

By the time you got there and Arthur had started a fire — after digging in the snow and finding the right rocks to put around the campfire — and put on your tent, you were shivering uncontrollably. Doing his best to warm you up slowly, he had taken the small liberty of setting the tent reasonably close to the fire, busying himself with brewing some coffee to make sure you’d have something to warm yourself with.

Sitting there, still wrapped in his clothes and the canvas of his tent, you watched his back to you, pulling a little more tightly at his bandana around your face. It really did smell like him — a good leathery smell, some remaining aftershave and campfire smoke. _To protect your face_ , he had said, wrapping the piece of cloth around your neck and tugging it up, _watch for frostbite._

With a sigh, the man got up, making his way back into the tent and beside you. He had taken his hat off, opting for keep his gloves on. “Here you go, drink this. Nice n easy, yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, taking hold of the aluminum cup with both your hands, basking in the glory of the hot beverage. Arthur nodded, looking out to the campfire with an expression you could only read as dark and brooding. Was he mad at you? So far, the man had seem nothing but kind; but again, you could only guess he was doing his best to keep you alive. That didn’t mean he had to get along with you.

Sipping at the coffee, you quietly downed it, and Arthur poured you a second one with a small dosage of whiskey to work up a little fire inside. Feeling better, but still undeniably cold, you sighed; watching the small cloud coming out of your mouth.

“We should go back,” Arthur spoke, not looking at you, “I knew this whole thing was a terrible idea. We’re going back, first thing tomorrow.”

Looking up at him beside you, you waited for him to speak up again before opening your mouth. “We couldn’t know what was going to happen.”

“I—,” he protested, twisting a small piece of twig in his hand, ultimately shutting up.

The wind howled outside and you guessed there must’ve started snowing and once more, were thankful for Arthur’s quick thinking. Downing the remnants of your drink, you felt the well welcomed burning sensation of winter coffee down your throat. The side of your body felt sore and sensitive and you wanted to just curl on yourself and see if it’d heal — you couldn’t come to Arthur with it, there had been already too much he had done for you, and so you decided to deal with it on your own.

“We should get some sleep,” Arthur determined quietly, shifting in the tent with a tired sigh, “got a long way back tomorrow. Yer clothes should be dry by then,” you eyed your outfit draped over a couple boulders next to the bonfire, “if not, you can keep those ‘till we get to Horseshoe.”

Frowning, you ignored as he fussed around in the tent for a good position. Normally, you’d both put up your own tents — or use both the canvas to make a bigger one to try and chase off the cold. You weren’t annoyed by his presence, though; more like guilty, feeling bad for having him babysit you when he had nothing to do with it. Arthur was kind, you decided. Perhaps way too kind.

“Don’t think too hard,” his voice came from behind you, low but clear, “or else yer gonna burn the little brain you still have.” Arthur seemed please with his joke, peering at you from below the edge of his hat with a lazy grin. “Get some rest.”

“Sure,” you replied, starting to look for a good way to lay down without hurting your bruised side. Arthur made way, because of course he did; and you did your best settle down beside him, only barely hissing at the small shot of pain.

“You still cold?,” he asked, genuinely worried.

“A bit,” it wasn’t a lie per see, _you were cold_ , and supposed it only worsened the condition of your bruising. “but just a little.”

Arthur stayed quiet for a moment, only the wind and crackling of the firewood a few feet away to be heard before he spoke up, “scoot closer, then.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he complained, shutting his eyes with little to no concern. “Scoot closer n don’t hog the blanket.” Gnawing on your lower lip, you weighed your options. The wind howled outside, almost dulling out the gentle crackling of the firewood a few feet away from the tent. “C’mon, now,” Arthur sighed, throwing the blanket over your body and settling against you, your head tucked comfortably under his chin, “‘s just body heat.”

Feeling flustered and embarrassed, you obliged; pretending not to enjoy too much the warmth the man behind you provided. Within no time the shivering died out, the cold pushed aside by Arthur to make way for the hopeful promise of a dreamless sleep. You were tired, yes, not so cold; and most of all, grateful to be alive.

“Thank you,” you finally whispered to Arthur, expecting him to be asleep, “you saved my life today.” Suddenly, an arm wrapped itself around your torso; not enough to hurt your bruised side, hesitant and gentle in its movements. “Arthur?,” you called, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks. He didn’t answer, instead simply pulling you closer to his chest, deliberately avoiding the area where you had been hit; his hand slowly caressing your forearm, and you somehow knew he was aware of your injury. Arthur could tell. He could always tell.

 “I was…,” his voice rasped out, somewhat strangled and barely above a whisper, “I thought I was gonna lose you too, today,” Arthur confessed, now pressing his face to the crown of your head, “I got so afraid, I—”

You allowed the silence to stretch a bit, basking in the gentleness he offered so freehandedly. It wasn’t surprising to you, but it pleased to see this softer side directed at you. “I’m here now,” you spoke finally, allowing your head to lol back against him, “I’m alive.”

“I know,” Arthur replied and pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, “but that doesn’t mean it didn’t get to me.”

“You don’t have to worry,” was all you could say, feeling the blush creep to your neck and the words tumble out of your mouth.

The man breathed deeply and you could feel the fluttering of his exhale on your hair. “It’d be hard not to, sweetheart.”


End file.
